


Duck

by fiveainley_ohmy



Series: Series 4 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF John, I'm mad at John right now so I wrote this, Jealous John, M/M, Mary is Not Nice, Not A Happy Ending, Pining John, Spoilers for The Six Thatchers, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:46:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9164749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveainley_ohmy/pseuds/fiveainley_ohmy
Summary: John sees Sherlock with another man in the park.





	1. John and Rosie

It was a fine sunny day and John had decided to take Rosie out for a walk in the park to see the ducks.

Rosie gurgled happily up at him from her carrier on John's chest. John smiled, something he hadn't done much of recently. "Want to go see the ducks, love?" he asked. "Okay, let's-"

He stopped short as he spotted two men sitting on a bench together at the edge of the duck pond, holding hands and looking cozy.

One of those men was Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled shyly at the other man, who was handsome and currently pushing one of Sherlock's wild curls behind his ear lightly.

John's fist clenched.

The mystery man leaned forward and laid a soft kiss to the detective's lips. Sherlock turned pink, obviously reciprocating. He seemed...happy.

John's heart seized in his chest at the sight. He shifted Rosie closer to his chest and turned the other direction, ducking his head before Sherlock could spot him. "N-never mind, Rosie. Let's just go home."

 


	2. John and Sherlock

_Feeling shy, were we? -SH_

John tried to fight the urge to text back - he hadn't spoken with Sherlock for two weeks, not since...

But five minutes later, John gave in.

_What is that supposed to mean? -JW_

_In the park. By the duck pond. I saw you, with Rosie. You must have seen me. -SH_

_Didn't want to bother you. You seemed...cozy. -JW_

_Oh. You're referring to Victor. -SH_

_Old friend from uni. -SH_

_Well, I say "friend". -SH_

John refused to text him back after that.


	3. John and E

_Hey -E_

_Hey -J_

_Haven't heard from you in a while. Are you alright? -E_

_Not really, to be honest. -J_

_I've been thinking about you. -E_

_A lot. -E_

_You said you're not free. I was wondering...are you married? -E_

_[...]_

_I'm a widower, actually. -J_

_Quite recently. -J_

_I'm so sorry. -E_

_It's okay. -J_

_Do you want to talk about it? Sorry, I know I'm just some stranger who gave you her number and you said you didn't want to do this anymore, but you're nice. I'd like to be friends. :) -E_

_[...]_

_It's...hard to talk about. It just happened and I feel terrible about the way we left things. It's a long story, but...I'm so confused, about a lot of stuff. -J_

_Well, if you need to talk...I'm here. -E_

_I appreciate that. -J_


	4. Mrs. Hudson and Mrs. Turner

"He hasn't been 'round for weeks," Mrs. Hudson said, fretfully straightening her teacup. "And Sherlock's completely given up on him. Seeing some new fella."

"Well, you can hardly blame the poor dear," said Mrs. Turner, sipping her own tea. "The way John's acting, it's like he blames Sherlock for what happened."

Mrs. Hudson sighed mournfully. "I know John's hurting at the moment, but they need each other so. Before Victor came around, Sherlock was moping around the flat, just like after the wedding. But even now, I think he misses him." Mrs. Hudson scowled and scrunched a doily in her fist. "Ohh! I could smack the both of them! Especially John. He just keeps breaking that poor boy's heart, and he doesn't seem to care."


	5. Sherlock and Molly

"Sherlock?" said Molly timidly. "Have you spoken to-"

"Not since you ever so kindly sent me away from his door, no," said Sherlock, a thread of ice in his voice. He didn't even bother to look up from his microscope. "Have you?"

Molly wringed her hands nervously. "Not for the last couple of days, no."

Sherlock fiddled with the knob. "Is he eating?" he asked after a moment. "Sleeping?"

"Um, yeah, he is," said Molly. "Bit busy and all that, what with work and taking care of Rosie and all."

"Mmm."

Suddenly the lab door opened, and in came Victor. "Hello, babe," he said, coming around the station to give Sherlock a quick kiss on the lips. He looked at Molly. "Hello, I don't think we've met. Victor Trevor, Sherlock's beau."

"Um...hi," said Molly, looking gobsmacked. "Molly Hooper. Sherlock's-"

"Associate," Sherlock curtly finished for her. Molly looked awkward.

"Well, 'Lock, I've got a cab. We should be heading out or we'll be late to the symphony," said Victor.

"Right, of course," said Sherlock, getting up from his stool and heading over to grab his coat and scarf from the stand by the door. "Goodbye, Molly. Oh, and the next time you see John...tell him we said 'hello'."

Sherlock linked his arm with Victor and the two men left. Molly was left standing alone in the lab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of mad at Molly too :/


	6. Sherlock and Victor

"Enjoy the concert, babe?" Victor asked Sherlock as they strolled down the street together.

"The third violin squeaked twice," Sherlock answered. "But I suppose that's why he was  _third_ violin."

Victor chuckled, kissing Sherlock's cheek. "Bet you could have outplayed them all." He stopped Sherlock, bringing him close to kiss him properly under the glow of the street lamp.

Sherlock smiled against his lips. "You always were a flatterer, Vic."

"And you have always liked to be praised," Victor replied with a smirk. "What say you take me back to your place and play for me?"

Sherlock smiled. "Victor...I wouldn't want to be with  _anyone but you_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand gut punch. (Also Noah Fence to third chair violins.)


	7. John and Lestrade

"Isn't she a tiny thing?" Lestrade grinned, tickling Rosie under the chin. "Cutchie-cutchie-coo."

Rosie burbled a laugh up at him.

"Growing up fast though," Lestrade said, looking at John. "You're doin' a damn fine job, John."

"Oi, language around the little one," John lightly chided.

Lestrade snorted. "10 quid says you've said worse around her."

John grinned sheepishly. "I'm trying."

Lestrade sighed. "John, let's talk."

"What about?"

"You know 'what about'."

John's smile slowly fell. "I'm not talking about it, Greg."

"You could at least call him."

"I don't want to have this discussion. Don't make me make you have to arrest me for assaulting a police officer."

"John, he  _needs_ you. Don't you realize you're the only friend he's got?"

"I was the only husband Mary had. Too bad for him," John growled.

"It wasn't his fault," Lestrade argued.

" _He_ called her there. If he hadn't called her there with that maniac, Rosie'd still have a mum."

"John-"

"I can't stand it, Greg!" John snapped. Rosie began to cry.

John sighed and picked up, rocking her soothingly. "Greg, there's things you don't know. Things I can't explain. But I wasn't as good to Mary as I could have been. And Sherlock had a lot to do with that. And when I look at him..." John scowled. "I can't see anything but the reason that my daughter's mum is dead."

Lestrade sighed. "John, you can't ignore him forever. Sherlock felt awful about her too. I think, given the option, he'd give anything to have taken that bullet instead of her. You know he'd do anything to make you happy."

John looked at his toes.

"Just...go to see him? Try to talk things out?" Lestrade looked at him encouragingly.

John thought about it. Then he slowly inhaled and exhaled. "Well...Molly's at work right now; I don't have anyone to watch Rosie."

"Why d'ya think I'm here?" Lestrade smiled.

John sighed in defeat and handed off the baby to Lestrade. "That's it, come to Uncle Greg!" he cooed to Rosie, grinning real big. Rosie ceased her crying and smiled at him. Lestrade turned his grin to John. "See, she's in good hands. You don't have to worry about a thing."

John smiled a tiny crack in spite of himself. He headed for the door and grabbed his coat. "I'll be back in half an hour."

Lestrade smiled at the slamming door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I'm writing reflects JOHN'S feelings, not necessarily mine.""""


	8. John and Victor

"John!" squealed Mrs. Hudson, hugging him tightly. She hadn't seen him since the funeral. "Sherlock's upstairs, why don't you go on up and surprise him? Oh, he'll be so happy to see you!"

John climbed the 17 steps and cautiously let himself in. He could hear the shower running. Sherlock's bedroom door was closed. "Sherlock?" he called.

The shower turned off. John looked around the flat, a wave of nostalgia washing over him.

The door creaked open. John put on what he hoped was a welcoming smile. But his eyes were greeted with a different sight than what he expected.

"Oh," said the very fit, handsome man clad only in a damp towel around his waist. "Sorry, thought you were 'Lock. You probably weren't expecting a drippy, half-naked man stumbling out to greet you," he chuckled bashfully.

John blinked in surprise. "You're..."

"Victor Trevor," the man smiled. "I'm Sherlock's boyfriend. He must still be asleep, we were up pretty late last night. Silly bugger sleeps like the dead, you know. I'll get him for you."

"No, that's-" But Victor was already going inside Sherlock's room.

John swallowed. His hands curled into fists, and he just quietly left the way he came.

* * *

"Sherlock, darling," Victor murmured, nuzzling the detective's curls to wake him. "Bloke's here to see you."

"Mmm." Sherlock rolled over, greeting him with a sleepy smile. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Victor responded, kissing him even though he had awful morning breath.

"Who did you say was here?" Sherlock said in between pecks.

"Some man. Didn't catch his name - client maybe?"

"Mm, okay. Hand me my robe?" Sherlock climbed out of bed in just his pajama pants. He pulled on his dressing gown and, after one more kiss with Victor, headed out into the main area. "Sorry to keep you waiting, this is a bit earlier than I normally - oh." Sherlock looked about his vacant living room, rubbing his sleep tousled curls in confusion. "He left. Hmph!" Sherlock shrugged and went back into the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no, I made Victor too perfect! Agh!
> 
> Also, Sherlock and Victor didn't have sex. They just snuggled. John's just supposed to think they had sex.


	9. Mycroft and Anthea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you like Mary, if you think she's a hero, you might want to skip this chapter. The next one too.

"Sir," said Anthea, entering the elder Holmes brother's office with a thick file. She handed it to him. "The information you requested."

"Excellent as ever, Anthea," said Mycroft imperiously. He opened the folder, read the first document, then nodded. "Exactly as I suspected. She was a plant."

"Moriarty's mole?"

"Yes. Mary Watson.  _Marry_ Watson. He does so like his wordplay."

"She was sent to marry John. Why?"

Mycroft lifted an eyebrow. "Why do you think?"

Anthea smiled pityingly. "Poor little brother."

"Her plan was excellent. Take John away; Sherlock is left in a vulnerable state. Might easily be  _seduced_ to the dark side. The plan went a bit awry when she nearly killed him, but she played it to her advantage when it seemed she met her bitter end. Speaking of which, where is she?"

"Our people last spotted her in Australia."

"Good girl. Keep an eye on her." Mycroft looked at the file contemplatively.

Anthea seemed to know what he was thinking. "Will you tell him, sir?"

Mycroft breathed out through his nose. "Yes. Yes, I do believe I will. After all...he is the best man for the job."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbth, I have no idea if Mary is alive or what. With this show, who the hell knows.


	10. Classified

"Gretel", as she was calling herself currently, let herself into her little one-room house and deadbolted the door behind her. She took off her shawl and hung it on the peg by the door. Then she froze, sensing something. She sighed in resignation. "Well...you always were able to find me," she said, turning around to face the figure sitting in the dark at her table. "Thought I was clever enough to fool you, just this one time. Guess not."

The figure reached up and turned on the light. Mary's eyes widened.

John stared at her stonily. "Guess not."

"I...thought you'd be Sherlock," Mary said, a quaver of fear in her voice. Sherlock was easy to manipulate because of his soft heart.  _John_ on the other hand-

"The two of you always believed I was an idiot," said John. "I guess am, considering I didn't even know the woman who 'died' in my arms was still alive."

Mary stared back at him, frozen like a deer in headlights.

John stood up, gun clenched in his hand. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't put a bullet in your brain right now," he growled.

"B-because I'm your daughter's mother," Mary said.

"If you think you're ever coming near her again, you are sadly mistaken."

"John, I know you won't kill me. You're a good man."

"I'm also a murderer, Mary. Like you." John glared at her.

Mary swallowed. "Did Sherlock tell you where to find me?"

"Sherlock has no idea about you. He was devastated when you died. I think he loved you, like you were his own sister."

"Yes, well. Sherlock always has had poor taste in loved ones." Mary looked at John significantly. "You act so self-righteous, John, talking about loyalty and love, but look how fast you turned on him when you thought I was dead."

"Yeah, you were real clever in all that, weren't you?" John said. "You diabolical bitch. Mycroft explained everything to me..."


	11. Mycroft and John

"She's not dead, John."

John went still in his chair. "...what?"

"It was all planned. Her death, Vivian Norbury...even your _friend_  on the bus...all preconceived."

John's mouth went very dry. "N-no," he said. "I'm a doctor. I held her in my arms, I  _would have known_!"

Mycroft looked at his hands in his lap. "It is a surprisingly easy venture to fake one's death. To even fool a trained medic like yourself - as we both know."

John's jaw clenched. _Stupid_.

Mycroft pulled Mary's file from his desk drawer. "All the facts are here. We're sending a highly capable and intelligent agent after her."

John laughed bitterly. "I think Sherlock's a bit busy these days."

"I'm not talking about Sherlock, John, I'm talking about you."

John looked up in surprise.

"You've been out of service for too long, Captain Watson," said Mycroft. "I'm putting you back in the battle."


	12. John and Rosamund

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, if you're a Mary supporter, this may not be a good chapter for you.

"You arranged this all. You, Vivian Norbury...Moriarty. He planted you in my life after Sherlock was gone. He was trying to drive us apart.

"Blanks in the gun. Blood packets in your blouse ready to pop by remote control trigger. Then you took a leaf out of Sherlock's book: squash balls under your arms to stop the pulse to your wrist. You were betting on me and everyone else being too distraught to make a thorough examination.

"But the real theatre was in the dialogue, wasn't it," John said, fuming. "Such tender things you said, things you've never said before. 'You're all I ever wanted, John.' And you finally apologized for trying to kill Sherlock. You staged the whole thing. Even had some woman proposition me on the bus to build up guilt later on. The martyr's death, leaving the unfaithful husband to wallow in his guilt for believing that his wife could ever be evil - when it turned out she was actually a saint. You knew how I'd react."

Mary sighed. "You'd lash out at Sherlock."

"You made me hate my best friend," John agreed. "For leading me to believe that you were evil. But he was right, wasn't he?"

"I'm not evil, John. I was doing my job."

"And this is me, doing mine." John held up his gun and pointed it at her.

Mary just stared at him. She finally scoffed. "You know what the most fucked up part is about all this is?" she asked, her dark eyes boring into him. "I actually did love you."

John was unmoved. He kept his gun trained on her until Mycroft's secret service burst in and clapped her in handcuffs.


	13. John. Sherlock.

The door swung open. "Oh. It's you."

"Hi," said John softly.

Sherlock stared back at him from the doorway to 221B. "What are you doing here?" he finally asked in a level voice.

"It's...her." John spoke slowly. "She's alive."

"...oh."

"Yeah."

They stood in silence, Sherlock staring at John, John staring at the stoop under his feet.

"Mycroft, he...tracked her down. She's in custody now...you were right. You were always right."

"So it would seem," Sherlock said.

John slowly looked up. "She played us against each other. She knew I'd blame you and..." He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry. Sending you away, it was wrong of me. And I'm sorry."

"I forgive you."

John sighed with relief. "Good. Great. So...how's things with...Victor?"

"Oh, Victor and I...we aren't together anymore."

"Really?" said John.

Sherlock nodded. "Really."

"Oh...well...can I come in?" John asked with a hopeful smile.

Sherlock stared at him for a moment, then opened his mouth.

"No. You can't."

The door swung closed in John's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, not a happy ending. :(


End file.
